


I'm lost until you find me (dance to the enemy's song)

by ofstardustandthimbles



Series: strange birds [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Other, Rufio/Tiger Lily - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2668211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofstardustandthimbles/pseuds/ofstardustandthimbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where the bird queen reigns before the dark and the boy who waited for his queen at the window comes, Peter Pan begins to wither and wilt. It is the beginning of the end. </p><p>(Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm lost until you find me (dance to the enemy's song)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time, Peter Pan, Hook, or Tiger Lily. All credit goes to their respective owners. Title credit to Paramore. 
> 
> For April. 
> 
> (If you anyone likes listening to music while reading, listen to Part II by Paramore and The End Of All Things by Panic! At The Disco.)

❝ _Things hurt and don’t hurt, and hurt again._ ❞

Jodi Lyn Anderson, Tiger Lily

 

 

When Wendy Moira Angela Darling opens her eyes, she sees black and green. Her nostrils sting with the overwhelming aromas of the earth and flowers, coloring her vision with dots of light in between the cracks of the leaves that towered over her head. She wriggles her toes and her fingers to search for the living feeling in her bones; her clear eyes are filled with delight at the soil between her fingers and the growing stain of her white night gown. A smile stretches on to her lips and she sits up, calling out for Bae to show him that he was wrong, that magic _is_ indeed wonderful.

The sound of whispers stops her.

The girl sits with her palms supporting her behind her back, her lips frozen in the midst of Baelfire’s name. All around her, she hears the hushed tones of voices circling where she lies. She bites her lip and curls her knees towards her chest, suddenly feeling a wave of cold air kiss the base of her spine. Goose bumps are scratched on to her ivory skin and her teeth begin to chatter. She does not know where she is; she only remembers taking the hand of the shadow to lead her to the place that she dreamt about. She remembers seeing an island sit on a throne of the blue ocean, and then she fell.

(The island shuffles as the bird girl spreads her wings inside a cage that can only be broken.)

She is in a cage of some sort, she begins to realize as her light irises wander her extended peripheral vision. Her head brushes against the top lined with twigs and leaves; a leaf falls in to her hair, and she easily brushes it off with her icy cold hands. Her slim fingers stretch to feel her surroundings; she feels a crack in the cage. The bird bites her dry lips and pushes it open with a silent prayer.

Eight faces stand before her with open mouths and shocked eyes.

The girl is stunned by their dirt stained faces; she notices a particular boy with dark hair and a stubborn red streak above his forehead. Her feet clumsily retreat to the comforting shelter of the cage, but her ankles sway and she struggles to keep her balance. Her hands find the opening and she tightly grips on to the handle before she falls in to the bed of green leaves, unable to take her eyes off the boys standing before her. Her heart races in her chest, and she fears from the weapons she sees at their feet, that they will tear her ribs open and devour the red muscle that lives inside.

She does not think. Her wings spread and she flies before they can catch her.

 

 

 

           

 

 _All children except one grow up. They soon now that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this_. _One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have been rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, “Oh, why can’t you remain like this forever!” This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end. [1]_

She gazes at the flower wreath in her hands as the boys – the Lost Boys, she soon learned – dance around the fire bursting from the Neverlandian wood. Her hands are pale and cold as the depths of the ocean, but dirt remains crusted underneath her nails from the soil. Her hazel eyes wander through the Neverland jungle; everywhere she looks, there is a shadow casted over the paths that once held footprints of the ones who wandered the island. The first thing she noticed about the island was the lack of footprints; every step she took vanished in thin air.

            The little boy who gave her the flower wreath sits at her feet now, his eyes filled with childish wander. Her heart tugs at the sight; his blue eyes resemble her youngest brother who sleeps with his teddy bear tucked underneath his chin at night. Another boy sits beside him – his twin brother – and they both gaze at her with identical awe. She glances down at the wreath, and back at the boys sitting at her feet.

            _“O Wendy lady, be our mother?”_

 _“Ought I?”_ Wendy asks in surprise. [2]

            The boy with the messiest brown hair – Nibs, Wendy tries to remember – stops and hushes the Twins frantically, eyes alarmed with horror. _“Hush! You know the Pan doesn’t like the talk of mothers.”_

            _“Do you want him to let the beast chase you off to the pirates?”_ Adds another – Curly, she thinks.

            One of the Twins whimpers quietly. _“But she’s an awfully pretty lady and she told us a lovely story.”_

            _“The Pan will have you killed if he hears us talking about this!”_ It is Slightly now, the boy whose arrogance is far too much for anyone. For once, the other boys agree with the nod of their heads and urgency to silence one another.

            _“I can’t be a mother, I’m only a girl!”_ Wendy objects to the idea of being a mother; she is too young, only fifteen years old. She does not want to grow up.

            _“She can tell us stories,”_ the other Twin suggests with caution, but his mouth is clamped shut by Rufio.

            _“Be quiet! If the Pan hears another word about her being a mother, he would –“_

            _“Find it to be a lovely idea.”_

            The Pan leans against the tree with his arms crossed in front of his chest, a lazy smirk on his lips and an amused eyebrow raised. The first thing Wendy notices about the Pan was his teeth; behind his lips, she sees blood dripping off the fangs hidden in the shadow of his mouth. He walks towards them now, and in the dim moonlight and burst of the fire licking the island, she sees the lightning strikes on his neck and chest, each crossing the other. His shoulders are sharp and his bones are jagged beneath his thin scarves wrapped around his neck.

            His eyes unsettle her. Wendy’s fingers tremble as his forest green irises observe her steadily from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She quivers underneath his gaze and tears her eyes away from his; he is incredibly handsome. His wicked smile makes her cringe, and she mistakes the Pan for an elf whose heart is filled with mischief.

            (She heard the boys talk about the Pan like a whisper in the night. She searched for him in the jungle as they led her to the burrow, but she could not find the king that installed fear in his subjects. She refuses to kneel before him or to cower in fear, and this amuses the Pan.)

            The Pan kneels in front of her with a questioning smile. Wendy holds her breath as he leans forward, his face only inches from hers. The birds fall silent, and she no longer hears the comforting crackle of the flames behind her. The frantic beating of her heart is quiet inside her chest, and the Lost Boys lose their voice. Her palms run cold with sweat, and the flowers begin to wilt in her hands.

            _“You’re a pretty little bird,”_ the Pan whispers.

            _“I’m not a bird,”_ Wendy snaps.

            The Pan chuckles darkly and stands. _“Forgive me,_ mother _.”_

            Wendy falls silent at the title and grips the flowers tightly.

            _“Take her to the burrow,”_ the Pan orders, and the boys behind her nod their heads eagerly, as if afraid that if one of them did not, they would suffer the consequences. _“Show your mother her new home.”_

            The Twins grab her hands eagerly, and Wendy turns before they lead her to the base of the tree. The Pan watches her and waits, as if he expected her to look back.

            _“If I’m going to be the mother,”_ she whispers, and her heart falls at the title. _“Who is going to be the father?”_

            The Pan laughs and walks towards her, placing two fingers beneath her chin to raise her head. Wendy trembles beneath his cold touch and hears a familiar warning of ringing in her head.

            _“Me.”_

            The flower wreath remains forgotten on the earth; the flowers wither and dry to dust in to the soil.

 

 

***

 

 

            The Pan did not love the Wendy bird.

            The Pan could not love, not after his heart was painted with black ink and torn apart by the filthy hands of the pirates. It is the riddle to his being, after all. Long ago, somewhere deep in the jungle of Neverland, a heart scarred and red lays hidden beneath the ground, never meant to be found. There are no tracks, and not even the bloodthirsty Never beast knows where the pulsing muscle can be found. The Shadow is merely a servant, and he himself, does not know where the heart of the king lies.

            (His hands trembled violently as he reached in to his chest and pulled out his own heart. He tilted his head up to the moon and closed his eyes, burying the organ deep below ground and out of sight. Green eyes were stung with tears that he refused to let them fall. His lips bled from his sharp teeth, and his bones quivered as his body shook.)

            The blonde faerie knew. She watched from behind a leaf on a branch as he thrust his hand in to his chest to remove the muscle that once was trapped in the cage of his ribs. Her eyes began to sting and she screamed, telling him to put his heart back and walk away. She could not fly, and her words fell on deaf ears. The Pan could not hear her or see her hidden in the shadows of the jungle. Up above, Tinker Bell heard the wind weep as he forced his heart beneath the dirt. Her lips trembled and her shoulders shook as she wept for the boy who had been torn open.

            She often watched the boys sleep in the old tree house. Ever so silently, her shadow danced along the painted walls of the inside of the wooden house, dragging her fingers along the paint that began to fade away. Tinker Bell sat at the window and listened. Her sight fell upon the dream catcher that reigned above Felix’s head; she barely made out his messy blonde waves beneath the blanket. The Pan’s arm was stretched from under his head, and her heart fell; his hand reached for the empty bed beside him.

            At night, she remembered a certain girl with the crowed feathers asleep in her cot between the boy king and the lieutenant. She remembered hearing her thoughts, but she did not know that the girl opened her mind to her, a window for her to crawl in to and rest. Tiger Lily knew more about faeries than Peter and Tinker Bell ever knew, and blocked out the things she did not want her friend to hear; Tiger Lily fascinated the little faerie. She watched over her and comfortably nestled herself in her hood behind her braid that she often played with when she sat on her shoulder; she wanted to protect her. Tiger Lily walked over their hearts and left her footprints there. [3]

            The Pan did not love the Wendy bird. He did not love her when she fell in the jungle of Neverland. He did not love her when she kissed the boys goodnight and kept her back towards him. The Pan did not love Wendy.

            The Pan hated the Wendy bird. Every time she smiled, the room appeared a little bit brighter, brighter than the light that dusted off the pixie’s wings. When she laughed, the birds chirped and sang in chorus with her. Deep inside his chest, there was something that clawed at the empty space of where his heart once was. The Pan turned his dark green eyes away from her and walked away, far in to the jungle where no one could ever find him. He knew better; Tinker Bell would follow right behind him and listen to his thoughts. The Pan felt something for the Wendy bird, and that terrified the Pan.

            Since the death of Tiger Lily, he felt the fear creep in to his bones. He fisted his hands and ran.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

            The Pan lay on his cot in the old Thinking Tree when a familiar mop of blonde hair emerges from the window. His hood is down; it is a strange sight to see, especially in the hours of the waking sun from the horizon. The brunette sits up from his cot and the blonde enters their old tree house in return.

            _“The boys want to go on a treasure hunt to Treasure Cove,”_ the lieutenant says with no emotion in his voice. _“Their mother is leading them there.”_

            He scoffs at the thought of Wendy wandering lost in the jungle with the boys following her around like moths to a candle. _“Let them be.”_

            Felix remains with his feet fixed to the wooden floorboards. His eyes wander their old tree house; his beautiful blue irises dim at the fading paint on the walls. He reaches out and traces his fingers over the paint that began to peel. The dream catcher remains in the light, its feathers lightly swaying to the morning breeze. He can picture their old friend painting the inside of the tree house, a long time ago before the pirates came to Neverland.

            _“Do you miss her?”_ whispers Felix.

            The Pan tugs on her beaded quilt from her dusty cot and fists it tightly in his hand. _“Not as much as you, Felix,”_ he answers.

            He chuckles softly, and the Pan laughs lightly at ease. This is the first time they talked about Tiger Lily long after. _“Rufio loves her,”_ Felix murmurs. _“Did you love her?”_

            The Pan drops the patterned quilt on her old cot; his back turns to face his lieutenant standing behind him. His lips quiver slightly and his voice shakes. _“I could have loved her,”_ he truthfully admits. _“You could have loved her.”_

            The truth hangs in the air; they both did, but it was at the wrong moment. The Pan found her, Felix loved her, but Rufio was the one who sheltered her, something they failed to do.

            _“You feel something for Wendy,”_ says Felix, _“I’ve seen you.”_

 _“I do not feel anything for that girl,”_ the Pan protests sharply. _“She’s bound to perish on the island.”_

            His flaming green eyes meet his hard blue ones; it is a white lie.

            _“I know you, Peter,”_ he says. He hikes his club over his shoulder, and he is gone.

                         

 

 

The Pan sits at the fire when Wendy and the Lost Boys return from their treasure hunt. Felix sits beside him on the log; at the arrival of the gang, he stands to leave. The golden haired boy stays where he is as his friend ushers them in to the burrow through the trunk of their tree. He faintly hears Wendy ordering them to wash up before dinner and the comforting jingle of bells. He does not move when he hears her footsteps approach him from behind.

 _“Do you mind if I sit?”_ shyly asks the mother.

When the Pan makes no move to acknowledge her, she gently sits herself down beside him. A small invisible space sits between them, as if there was a seat meant for someone else to sit in the middle. She folds her hands in her lap and nervously glances at the pied piper staring in to the fire. There is a faraway look in his green irises; Wendy falls quiet. She has seen the Pan alone several times; most of the time, he is far from the burrow and alone. She sees the clouds and rain rage in his eyes and the lightning scars on his neck and throat.

It has been a few months since Wendy came to Neverland. Once, she tried to keep track of time by marking a tally on the bark of a tree inside the burrow. It was Rufio who sat on her bed and shook his head.

 _“There’s no point in counting the days mother,”_ remarked Rufio. _“Time stands still here.”_

Wendy drops her stick and gapes at him. _“But how am I supposed to know how long I’ve been away from home?”_

 _“You don’t,”_ he says sadly. _“Time stops, mother. Time stops everywhere.”_

_“Is there something you need, Wendy?”_

The light haired girl snaps out of her thoughts. The Pan looks at her now, and she holds her breath. Rarely does the Pan look at her, even when he spoke little to her since her arrival in his kingdom. He is foul and moody, but in the tiniest moments when he thinks no one is looking, she sees him open up to the blonde pixie who watches over them. Once during a blue moon, she saw the Pan lay his head on Tink’s shoulder, his eyes red with dark circles underneath.

The mother tugs at the hem of her night gown. _“I wanted to know if you’re okay.”_

_“If I’m…okay?”_

_“Yes,”_ Wendy nods her head. A puzzled look settles on his features, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tries to comprehend her statement. To her surprise, she laughs; he looks boyish and much like the teenager he is.

The Pan frowns _. “What’s so funny?”_

 _“I’m sorry,”_ Wendy apologizes, but her smile stays on her lips. _“You looked a little confused and I thought you looked adorable.”_

 _“I’m fine,”_ the Pan says sharply, but she remains unfazed at his sudden composure and laughs once more. His green eyes sneak a curious glance at her.

She is stunning. The fire illuminates her features and the moon and the stars shine brightly down at her. Her eyes twinkle with childish laughter. In the light of the burning fire, he sees the freckles that kiss her nose and cheeks. They are like the constellations that he can trace with the tips of his fingers. If her freckles were the stars, her face is the canvas of the sky, and her eyes the galaxies that remain infinite beyond the unknown.

A silence falls upon them after he looks away. The only sound that rings through the air is the crackle of the fire at their feet. Flying sparks dance in to the night and the smoke stretches to the sky that sits high above their heads. The Never bird sings in the distance; there is something different about the Never bird. The Never bird is always asleep and crows in times of danger.

(His bones are at ease; the blood softly hums in his veins. His chest rises and falls in to a steady rhythm, his breath forming small white puffy clouds in to the night. Neverland remains still. The water of the ocean around them is silent; there is not even the faintest breeze or a cloud to conceal the bright glow of the stars.)

His green eyes rise to the moon’s waxy smile that hangs on a thread in the sky. The Pan remembers the folklore the warrior princess once told him and his lieutenant on nights when sleep was distant to them. The guilt of her death consumes him whole every passing day; he sees her in the trees, he hears her in the wind, he hears her run in the night. The guilt suffocates Felix; he sees him go to the rocks at night and whisper _I’m sorry, I’m so sorry_ with his head bowed and his voice weak. She wasn’t coming back.

The Pan is startled when he hears the voices of the Lost Boys draw near. He predicts that they are climbing up from the ladder in the burrow, and he turns to Wendy. The bird queen stands and smoothes her hands on her dress, her gaze set on the tree on the other side of the fire. She takes one step forward, but his hand, as quick as a viper, snatches her wrist and pulls her back.

Wide blue irises are stunned with large pupils. Her pink lips slightly part, but the Pan tugs at her wrist and pulls her close.

_“Let’s get out of here, Wendy.”_

She follows right behind him. When the Lost Boys come out, they only see their footprints disappearing in to the shadows.

 

 

 

Wendy does not know what to think, but she acts. Her heart beats wildly and as she runs through the jungle with the Pan leading her, she never felt so alive. It is almost as if Neverland had twined itself inside of her; she can almost feel the buzz of the island humming inside of her very bones. It is as if she is one with the jungle; low hanging leaves swat at her face and her toes dig deep in to the damp earth at her feet. She runs; her heart pumps and she struggles to breathe as her lungs ache for air. The muscles in her legs ache, but she presses forward and laughs. The bird has taken flight.

The grip on her wrist is firm, but not iron. The bird queen does not know where the boy king is taking her, but she hears the soft sound of his chuckle as they run hotly through the jungle. She struggles to keep up with him; the Pan is fast, as fast as a slithering snake hidden among the plants of Neverland. In the distance, the Never bird chirps with its wings raised and ready for flight, but remains with its feet planted inside of its nest.

(They do not see the stars shine above them. The stars wink at the two teenagers running wildly in their sister’s land. One star laughs and another urges them to run faster. The wind picks up and pushes them along with its palms flat on their backs.)

They reach a large tree near the center of the island. The Pan slows to a stop and pants heavily; his cheeks flushed a slight shade of red. Sweat trickles down his neck and his lungs beg for air; each intake of breath is a sharp knife stabbed in to his chest. His hands are slick with sweat and his legs are sore from the sudden exertion, but he still stands. His blood pumps rapidly in his veins and his head throbs.

Wendy is no different than he. She leans against the trunk of the tree and laughs once more, the sound resonating within the peripheral area. A smile curves on to her lips as she wipes the sweat from her brow, her face pink and her white night gown stained with dirt and dew from the leaves of the plants. Sap sticks between her toes, but she basks and loves every second of it.

 _“I want to show you something,”_ breathes the Pan after they catch their breath. His hand – still enclosed around her small wrist – guides her to the small crack of the tree. The crack is large enough for their two faces to peer inside

In the heart of the tree dances the Faerie King and Queen. The bright golden light of their wings and other faeries burn in to the dark night that sits outside of Pixie Hallow; their light glows on to their faces. The King holds his Queen close and twirls her in his arms; pixie dust falls from the flutter of their wings. Wendy faintly hears the small melodic ringing of bells – the faerie language – something she learned from Tink.

It is the marriage of the King and Queen.

She watches in awe as they float in the heart of Pixie Hallow. Vibrant flowers line the perimeter of their home; hues of reds, oranges, and purples blossom in the presence of the fairy dust that gives them life. The Queen’s arms rest on the broad shoulders of the King. A smile tugs on her lips and they lean towards each other for a kiss, completing a puzzle that the two of them can only make.

(Wendy does not see the Pan observing her with careful green eyes. There is something behind them, a small glow of warmth and awe. She does not see a smile that threatens to curve on his lips. The blood that once stained his teeth is gone. Something tugs at the inside of his chest, a place where his heart once was. The Pan watches her, and he understands. He remembers Felix’s words and understands.)

The Pan gently tugs on her wrist. The bird queen turns her head and faces him, the trace of childish wonder lingering in her blue eyes.

 _“It’s beautiful, Pan,”_ Wendy whispers. _“Absolutely beautiful.”_

Something tickles on his lips – a smile – it feels strange and foreign to him. He cannot remember the last time he smiled; it was when the crowed girl once roamed the island with the sun in her eyes. The Pan shyly looks away; there is a heat in his cheeks that kiss his skin a soft pink. He sees the girl lays her eyes on his hunched form, his shoulders sharp and his jaw tense. He does not see something flicker in those clear mirrors.

The golden haired girl steps away from the Hallow and cautiously slips her hand in to his, afraid that he would pull away. His hand is surprisingly warm with hers; the warmth envelopes her blue finger tips. The Pan’s head tilts down to their joined hands and abruptly looks at her.

_“There’s something I want to give you.”_

She leads him a little further away from the Hallow. They now stand in the deepest heart of Neverland. They failed to notice the faeries peek from the crack in the tree to carefully watch the boy king and the bird queen outside their little quaint home.

Wendy reaches for her chest and tugs on a thread that was tied around her neck. Her thimble – dented from Tootles’ arrow – dangles from her hands. She bites her lip and harshly pulls on the cord. Snap! There is a small sharp pain in her neck from the pressure, but she still smiles at the Pan standing before her with a sheepish grin.

She places the thimble in his other free hand. The Pan glances down and scrutinizes the thimble in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed. He holds her thimble safely in his palm and fondles it, afraid that it would shatter in to pieces at any moment. The dent still remains from the arrow that pierced it.

_“What is it?”_

Wendy is stunned at his ignorance. She blinks several times and opens her mouth, stumbling with her words. _“It’s a thimble.”_

_“A thimble?”_

She nods her head. _“A thimble; for protection.”_

His eyes narrow slightly at her. _“I don’t need protecting.”_

 _“I know,”_ Wendy whispers, _“but-“_

_“But what?”_

Her blue eyes meet his green ones and she looks away. With her free hand, she hesitantly reaches forward and places her palm on his chest. Where his heart should be, she feels nothing. The Pan does not know that a little faerie showed her his missing heart. There is no warmth in his heart. It is cold.

The Pan snatches her wrist. Wendy jumps and mumbles an apology, but his grip is not tight. His grip is gentle. She tilts her head and their eyes meet. His gaze is fixed on her lips.

She does not know. His lips are soon on hers and molds gently against them. Wendy’s heart stops as his calloused bruised hands rest on her hips and pulls her closer, but his moves are not rough. He is soft. The bird queen closes her eyes and tightly grips the collar of his shirt, pressing their bodies closer. She feels his heat radiate from his body as their hips grind together, bones to bones, lips to lips.

The Pan breathes first. He rests his forehead against hers and laces their fingers together, his breath falling on her bare exposed neck.

_“Pan-“_

_“Peter,”_ he whispers against her lips. _“It’s Peter.”_

Wendy kisses the corner of his lips. _“Peter.”_

_“Say it again.”_

She kisses his neck. _“Peter.”_

He kisses her once more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He wears her thimble around his neck beneath his red scarves. Wendy takes note of the change in him; she no longer sees the Pan. There was someone else before her, someone younger with the bright sun in his hair and the forest in his eyes. A smile haunts his lips. Beneath her feet, she feels Neverland hum with something strange – the island buzzes. Flowers blossom wherever she walks and the Never bird sings from day to night. The sky is a rich canvas of colorful hues; blues, purples, pinks, and oranges. The Lost Boys no longer tremble in his wake.

The Pan was smothered by Peter.

(What the bird queen and boy king did not see was a pirate who watched them that night from the shadows near the Hallow. His sharp blue irises harden at the sight of the girl’s lips on his – on the boy’s who took the life away from his brother.

 _“He has found himself a Wendy,”_ Hook murmured.)

Wendy huddles behind a tree. In the distance, she hears Peter count the numbers from one to a hundred back at the burrow. She stays on her knees and rests her clammy hands on the damp green branches of the tree; Rufio left the burrow with his bow and arrow strapped across his back. Before the game began, she caught him with a scarf around his mouth and his hood up, his own sword tightly held in his hand. She followed close behind him.

She sees the black haired boy squatting in front of the dark vines, the bastion of their territory. Beyond the vines lay Skull Rock, the smaller quarters of the dreaded and feared pirates. His eyes are dark and something swirls inside of them. Wendy’s stomach coils; his fists are tight and his knuckles as white as snow. There is a small glass in his gloved hands and he presses it underneath a vine with great caution. Something drips in to the bottle.

Poison.

Rufio stands from his spot and caps the bottle with a cork. He turns around. Wendy quickly releases the branches and conceals herself behind the thick brown trunk of the tree, desperately clutching at the bark to quiet herself. She holds her breath as his footsteps approach closer to where she hides. Far behind her, she hears Peter end the countdown.

The boy runs towards the shore.

Wendy follows close behind, afraid of what he plans to do. Rufio has been quiet, too quiet, and it is unlike him to keep to himself. He does not hush the younger boys when they annoy him. He is on edge; it was a few days ago when Curly used his arrows while hunting. Rufio was livid and seething with rage; Felix pulled him back before he could slit Curly’s throat with his sword. Wendy tried to speak to him after the incident, but Rufio was gone to the rocks where the tiger lilies bloomed.

When Wendy’s feet met the cool waters of the ocean, he was already gone. In the distance, the sockets of the skull glowed yellow. A lone hooded figure rows the oars of a canoe towards the giant rock. She does not think and cups her mouth, shouting at the top of her lungs.

_“RUFIO!”_

A twig snaps behind her. Wendy hastily looks over her shoulder. Standing behind her, a man in a black coat with an iron hook smiles.

 

 

 

 _“There’s a new pirate on the Jolly,”_ Peter says later that night in the burrow.

The boys fall silent, and Wendy tenses in her seat beneath the comfort of her blanket, a cup of water in her hands. She notes Rufio cleaning his arrows with his back towards the others. Peter sits at his throne with his back against one of the seat rests, his legs dangling from the other. His elbows support his weight from behind and he surveys the others mumbling at his feet.

_“What’s their name?”_

_“Red-Handed Jill.”_

_“Some sort of name that is,”_ barks Slightly.

Peter snorts and fiddles with his pipes. _“She’s nothing but a story teller.”_

Wendy drops the cup from her hands and it shatters at her feet. She stares numbly at the cold water stinging her toes and faintly hears the boys rushing to her side. She does not see Peter approaching her worriedly with concern heavily concentrated in his bright green eyes, his hands over hers.

_“Wendy, what’s wrong?”_

Their mother looks down at her lap and slumps her shoulders slightly. _“I’m Red-Handed Jill.”_

Peter tightly grips her hands in his. _“Don’t be silly. You’re not Red-Handed Jill, Wendy; you’re my little bird.”_

Wendy shakes her head, recalling the deal that she made with Hook. _“You don’t understand, Peter, I’m Red-Handed Jill.”_

Over his shoulder, she sees Rufio’s hazel eyes drown in fear. He stands up and runs out of the burrow with the Lost Boys calling after him in to the darkness of the jungle. Only the bird queen and the boy king remain.

 _“I don’t need to understand,”_ Peter protests earnestly, his voice shaking. _“You’re not Red-Handed Jill. She’s nothing but a storyteller. I won’t let the pirates go anywhere near you, do you hear me?”_

 _“I do, Peter, I do,”_ Wendy looks away from him and pulls her hands towards herself. _“Hook found me at the shore.”_

Peter’s fears tumble out of his mind. His body runs cold and his bones shake as he places his trembling hands on her frail shoulders, his pupils blown with fear and his voice on the edge. _“I told you to never go to the shore, Wendy. You promised me that you wouldn’t talk to him. You_ promised _.”_

 _“He hasn’t done anything wrong!”_ Wendy angrily shouts, frustrated at Peter’s stubbornness. _“He offered me to find my way back home!”_

Peter stands and shakes his head in disbelief. _“That pirate is nothing but a cheating liar! Neverland is your home, Wendy.” You’re my home._

Wendy rises with her eyes level with his, anger seething in to her blue irises. _“I have someone waiting for me at home, Peter. I have a mother, a father, two brothers!”_

His eyes darken. _“You have Baelfire waiting for you at the window, isn’t he?”_

She eyes him with fear. _“How do you know about Baelfire?”_

Something strange happens. The Peter Wendy once resurfaced began to fade in to the boy she first met on the island. The Peter drowned as the Pan emerged, his head tilted back as he laughs darkly at the trembling girl in front of him. Wendy’s lips quiver and her legs shake as he advances towards her.

 _“I know everything I need to know about that squirming larva,”_ he whispers. _“This is all make-believe to you, isn’t it, Darling?”_

Wendy swallows hard and refuses to meet his eyes. A chill runs down her spine and her blood turns cold underneath his shadow looming over her small body. _“I’m afraid so, Pan.”_

The Pan turns away from her, his chest heavy with an invisible claw tearing it apart. His lips tremble, but no one sees.

(The little faerie watches from behind her curtain leaf in the burrow. Her heart falls.)

The Pan leaves the bird queen alone in the burrow. She falls to her knees and weeps.

 

 

***

 

 

There are many things Wendy did not have a chance to know after the Shadow took her back to London.

After Rufio ran in to the jungle, he stumbled upon the old canoe he constructed with the native warrior before the ocean claimed her. He collapsed on the canoe and wept. He looked up at the moon and screamed _I’m sorry, I’m so sorry._ He promised Tiger Lily that he would save her before the pirate claimed her. He failed. He let Wendy in danger when she followed him after he filled a vial of Dream Shade to poison the man who killed his princess with a cold smile. Rufio howled in to the night like a wounded wolf.

(At the Jolly, the goblet meant for the captain was taken by a man named Cecco. He fell on deck. The poison reached his heart in seconds.)

Wendy believed Peter sent her back because he didn’t want her. It was more than that; Tinker Bell was the one who saw the Shadow sweep the girl off her feet and take her back to the reality she feared to face. Felix knew; Peter felt something for her, even with his heart buried below the earth. Peter did not send her away because he did not want her.

Hook took away the life of the warrior’s tribe and dragged her to her death. He sawed off Tinker Bell’s wings with iron. Wendy was innocent; her night gown as pure as an angel and her eyes as clear as the day sky.

Peter found himself a queen, but the queen could not last in the kingdom threatened by the man who wields a hook for his missing hand.

When Wendy returned to London, only a night has passed. What was months in Neverland, was only hours in London. At the window, Baelfire lay asleep. He sat up when her shadow fell over his face in the morning sun.

Her eyes were red and dark circles sat beneath them. Baelfire cupped her face gently and sat her down, placing his red robe over her small shoulders.

_“Why did you return?”_

Wendy looked away. _“Because when I fell, the children started to miss their parents. They cried for their mother.”_

_“Why didn’t they go home?”_

_“The Shadow wouldn’t let them,”_ she shook her head. _“There’s a reason it’s called Neverland. Once you set foot on its soil, the Shadow never lets you leave.”_

Baelfire sat stunned. _“H-how did you escape?”_

 _“He let me go,”_ Wendy whispered. _“He didn’t want me.”_

It was a lie.

The Pan began to love her, and she began to love him.

 _“I won’t let anything bad happen to you,”_ Baelfire gripped her hand tightly and smiled gently at her. _“I promise.”_

 

He kept his promise.

Three nights in Neverland, the Shadow returned and dropped a boy in the ocean. Felix and the others sought after the new visitor the Shadow acquired after their mother left the island.

The Pan locked his brother in a cage. He was still asleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tinker Bell sits on his shoulder as he sleeps.

There is a faint glow from the burrow seen through the cracks of the trees and branches, illuminating the darkness of Neverland. Something strange happened once the bird queen flew from the island; the sun began to die. Flowers wilted, the island lost its humidity and turned in to a floating desert. The Sun failed and was engulfed by the greedy black hands of the night; only the moon reigned with its silver linings in the sky. When the wind blew, it was as hot as the flames that licked the earth beneath the surface.

The Pan kept his distance from his brother. The Lost Boys avoided the boy as if he were the Black Death. The cage was small, Baelfire was nearly curled in to a fetal position with barely enough room to stretch, but just enough to breathe through the bamboo sticks in between. The cage hung high above the Dead Man’s tree as a warning to the boys; whoever dared to friend him or defy the Pan, he would share a similar fate or suffer something far worse than imprisonment.

She crawls through the cracks and feeds him berries on his shoulder. The boy is haggard and death-like; his skin pale and his dark hair slick with sweat. He trembles in his sleep but he is consoled by the soft touch of the blonde haired pixie who keeps close on his shoulder, wiping away his tears as he cries out for the family that left him behind. Tinker Bell hears his thoughts and sees through his eyes, a gift of a faerie, but it is also a curse.

Somehow, the Pan knew about her looking after his little brother. It was a week before he ordered Felix to cut the rope. The cage crashed on the dirt and the boy tumbled out like a stowaway caught on a ship. He looked up at the boy king with frantic and startled eyes swarmed in fear. Tinker Bell watched, afraid for Baelfire as the boy she once knew eyed him with something unreadable in his gaze.

The Pan pulled the boy up from the ground with his hands around his wrists. The air suddenly changed from a dry drought to a winter wind. Tinker Bell shivered and buried herself beneath Baelfire’s robe on his shoulder, silently pleading Pan to let his brother go.

The boy king gave him a canteen of water. Baelfire wept.

 

* * *

 

Tinker Bell does not understand what happened that night. Like a crack of lightning ripping through the sky, the Pan grew softer, but he was not the same Peter who belonged to Tiger Lily and loved Wendy. The Lost Boys continued to keep their distance from him, afraid of the sudden turns and twists of their leader’s moods – even Felix guarded the younger ones like a father protecting his children.

One night, Baelfire sits with the Pan beside the fire. The dark circles that once hung beneath his eyes faded away and the color returned to his face. He looks nothing like his older brother; his hair is darker, thicker, and wavier, just like their mother’s. He had his father’s eyes and his mother’s charismatic youth inside of his heart. The Pan was the complete opposite; he was the spitting image of the Sir Malcolm and did not look anything like his father or mother, but his dreaded late grandfather.

 _“Why did you let me out?”_ Baelfire asks quietly.

The Pan laughs softly to himself; there is a twinge of regret and guilt in his eyes.

(Tinker Bell watches from her spot beside Felix on the log across from them; it is a blue moon. She insistently tugs at his sleeve, eyes blown wide with worry for the boy.

The boy with the scar places his hand over hers. She turns to look at him; one look and the storm inside of her disperse in to a calming wind.

 _“It’s okay,”_ he whispers. Tink sighs and leans her head against his shoulder.)

 _“Someone reminded me of the beast that destroyed me,”_ the Pan murmurs quietly, his gaze focused on the flickering fire. _“I made a mistake; I can’t take it back.”_

His eyes lock with Tink through the fire.

His younger brother sees the pipe in his hand. _“You were once my friend when you were in Hamelin.”_

 _“I was,”_ the Pan agrees _. “I won’t ask you to forgive me.”_

 _“There’s something I don’t understand,”_ Baelfire tilts his head to the side with burning curiosity. _“My father is afraid of you. Why?”_

The Pan grins darkly. _“You’ll find out soon, Baelfire,”_ he answers. _“But first, I would like to play a song for the guest of honor.”_

 

 

***

 

Jas Hook smiles when the Pan lands on deck.

The Lost Boys are scattered; some are wounded and some were kissed with scratches and bruises. Some lay on deck crippled and some can barely stand. The moons of Neverland glows intensely as the anger and rage of the boy king screams inside of him, a beast that cannot be tamed. He reaches for his dagger at his waist, and the captain of the damned pirates raises his sword, ready to strike.

Baelfire untangles himself from the web of nets and rolls on to his back. Boots dance before his eyes as the Pan strikes against the captain, his forest irises flaming with a storming rage. The man who saved him from the mermaids cackles with dark humor as the swords clash against the other, sending sparks and screeches that rings through the air. Something stirs inside of him as he observes black and green fight with anger towards the other.

There is a knock beside him. Tinker Bell furiously bangs her firsts against the glass of the lantern and runs, tipping the lantern over. Before the lantern shatters on the deck and the glass penetrates through her frail body, the Pan’s younger brother catches it and opens the glass. The faerie lands safely in the warm palm of his hand and trembles.

Hook turns his sword and the handle crashes against the Pan’s skull. A red waterfall begins to trickle and he falls to the ground, his body quivering and shaking wildly. Across the deck, Rufio pulls himself up and reaches for an arrow behind his back.

The arrow scratches the captain’s cheek and lands in the heart of a pirate with his hands on backwards.

The ocean stares at the boy with the red streak in his hair. The Pan barely registers the scene before him; he hears Rufio yell with tears streaming down his cheeks. He hears the cries of the Lost Boys and the angry shouts of the pirates as their bodies blur in to ghosts flying in his vision. There is the sound of a gunshot and a cry of pain followed by the sound of a body falling to the floor.

Rufio’s hazel orbs gaze lifelessly at the boy king with blood pouring like wine from his lips. The Pan screams. The Lost Boys run across the deck and attack once more. The throbbing of his head grows as he struggles to stand on wobbly legs and clumsy hands. He hears the pirate captain laugh darkly as his sword paints red lines on to his chest.

His world turns black.

 

 

***

 

 

Red flowers bloom beside the tiger lilies at the cave.

Baelfire sits at the rocks and gazes at the night sky. The moons of distant stars and planets float above him like the hot air balloons he often saw in London before he came to Neverland. His mind drifts to an old home in London. Wendy would tell a story to Michael and John with Nana keeping watch at her feet. George and Mary Darling would play piano in the family room, and Wendy might have her own room separate from the nursery. An empty bed would be beside John’s bed, a bed that was meant for him. Would the window be open? Or would it be closed?

Would Wendy sit at the window and pray to the second star to the right that he would come home? Would she wait for him?

Footsteps sound behind him and the Pan sits. His eyes are red and another lightning scar sits at his temple; his chest is bandaged. It is a wonder the Pan survived the wound inflicted by the pirate captain; it is only a scratch that did not penetrate deeply through his brittle bones, but a scar remains where his heart once was. Bruises blossom on his cheeks and his hands and fingers are skeleton-like; he resembles a skeleton more and more each day.

 _“I’m sorry,”_ Baelfire says.

The Pan looks down at the water and the rocks beneath. _“I am too.”_

In the distance, they hear the mermaids sing. They are not lured by their beautiful voices.

He tries to comfort the Pan, but his mind screams that there is nothing he could do to take away the pain of the boy who became his first friend as the pied piper. The boy crosses his legs in to a meditating position and reaches for the tiger lily between two rocks beside his shoulder.

 _“The tiger lilies and poppies are really pretty,”_ he comments. _“I don’t see them much in London.”_

The Pan’s head tilts up and he faces him with a guarded look. _“The tiger lilies are native to Neverland.”_

Baelfire sets the tiger lily down on the water. Weeks ago, he stumbled upon an old tree house perched far from the burrow during a game of hide-and-seek. With nowhere to go, the boy climbed the ladder and hid, surprised to see paintings and dream catchers. The tree house was covered in a layer of dust, but the images of the bright paint are forever engraved in his memory.

Felix found him before Tootles, the boy who counted, could see him.

 _“You shouldn’t be here,”_ he said.

The boy apologized and bowed his head, but his eyes were caught by blooming tiger lilies at the window of the tree house.

 _“Why are tiger lilies the only flowers in Neverland?”_ Baelfire asked curiously.

Regret flooded his blue irises. _“To remember a friend.”_

He apologized once more as he looked around him, imagining a girl painting the walls in the afternoon sun. _“Did the Pan love her?”_

 _“He could have,”_ Felix answers truthfully. _“Rufio does. He loves her more than anything.”_

_“Do you miss her?”_

_“There is not a day where I don’t think of her.”_

 

The Pan curls his knees towards his chest and traces the stars’ reflection in the calm waters at his feet. His head pounds and his chest weigh heavily inside of him; the memories of running through the cave from the pirates with a laughing Felix and Tiger Lily plague him darkly. The memory of finding her broken hatchet on the water haunts him. The memory of the Lost Boys unable to find her body destroys him. The memory of Neverland flashing before his eyes with the princess gasping for air with the water to her throat and a rock above her head providing a chance of escape before her hand slips in to the ocean hurts him. The memory of Wendy landing on the soil like a bird ghosts him. The memory of Wendy leaving kills him. The memory of Rufio’s lifeless eyes ruins him.

The Jolly docks a mile away from them, casting a silhouette before the silver moon. Baelfire tightens his hands in to fists as anger begins to boil inside of him. For once, he is grateful that Tink is not with him. He does not want her to see his thoughts or feel what he feels. Hatred begins to simmer towards the boy sitting beside him, the boy who resembled nothing more than a rotting corpse with a missing heart buried deep in to the island.

Neverland quivers in his bones. The Pan, startled, turns to Baelfire, his brown orbs flaming with disgust and anger. He uncurls himself and stands the same moment as the boy with the wavy hair, stunned. The image of his angry father flash before his eyes and the Pan staggers back, afraid. His father and his younger brother are nearly one. The look of disdain from his mother as a child emerges. The Pan raises his arm in defense as he steps back and begins to retreat, his arms shaking.

 _“Why don’t you let Hook leave?”_ Baelfire spits out angrily, his shoulders rising and falling as he struggles to keep his voice low. The air falls still around them.

The Pan stares at him, green eyes wide.

Baelfire steps forward. _“I should never have left! I should have listened to my father-“_ A lump forms in his throat and he swallows hard, his eyes turning red as they sting with threatening tears. _“How many lives does it take before you let him go?! Tiger Lily, now Rufio?! When will you open your eyes and listen to the Lost Boys? You don’t even talk to Tink anymore-“_

The Pan covers his ears as his head throbs violently. _“Shut up.”_

His younger brother does not hear him. _“The boys are_ afraid _of you! You don’t do anything! Why can’t you just let Hook go?! He’s going to keep killing whoever crosses his path and you already lost Tiger Lily and Rufio! You –“_

 _“I can’t!”_ The Pan screams at him, tears in his eyes. _“I just can’t.”_

Baelfire shakes his head in disbelief. _“You’re nothing but a coward, Peter Pan. Tiger Lily and Rufio are_ dead _because of_ you _, because you can’t let that damned pirate-“_

The Pan snaps and his fingers latch around Baelfire’s throat. His head collides with the rocks behind him and he gasps for air; anger dances in his forest green irises and the tears fall from captivity. Something flickers in his eyes and he releases him, leaving bruises on his neck. Baelfire falls to his knees and gasps sharply, his lungs aching like a knife digging in to his chest.

The Pan stares at his hands with frightened eyes, breathing heavily. His hands tremble as his younger brother groans, glaring at him from the rocks.

 _“I can’t let him kill our father,”_ he whispers.

Brown irises widen. _“Our father?”_

Baelfire remembers his mother and father keeping him inside. He once asked why he could not go outside. His mother smiled sadly and brushed his hair out of his eyes and told the story of their eldest son who ran away. He never returned.

A strangled cry escapes the Pan’s lips as Baelfire reaches towards him. The Pan turns and runs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Baelfire is not seen for weeks in Neverland. The island is no longer hot but is as still as it was when the Pan first stepped foot along years and years ago. The Lost Boys are quiet and Tinker Bell reluctantly sits on his shoulder once more. It is two months later he finds a cave with drawings of the Darlings sketched on to the rocks with his shadow leading his younger away from him.

It is three months later when the Jolly Roger is no longer sighted on the shore.

It is a year later Tinker Bell finds the Pan weeping in the heart of Neverland. Inside his hand is a bright red heart covered in scars. Her scream is silenced by his cry of pain.

The heart reigns in his ribs once more.

**Author's Note:**

> [1] "..." (Barrie 1).
> 
> [2] "..." (Barrie 59). 
> 
> [3] "..." (Anderson). 
> 
> _
> 
> Sorry this took so long! School weighed heavily on me but I'm on my Turkey Break right now, so I finally had the chance to finish this! This chapter is shorter than the first (exactly 16 pages wheezus) and I hope it was worth the wait. I'll do my best to write the last part of this trilogy soon, hopefully by Christmas if I'm not so busy. I don't have the exact page number for citation 3 because a friend of mine is currently borrowing Tiger Lily. 
> 
> Reviews are like thimbles. They make you warm and fuzzy and turn pink :)


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